The Shivering Isles: Throne of a Hero
by Lostwonder15
Summary: I only wished for three things. That I could live a normal life, in a normal house, and with a normal family. That someday I could live up to be someone instead of being born as someone. Instead, I am someone. I am Henry, Nephew to Lord Sheogorath.
1. A Guide to Problem Solving

**A/N:**Yep I'm revising this. My old version of this story (which I only got to two chapters) wasn't so good. This is MUCH better, trust me. I wrote the old one way before I came to Fan fiction. You will find this version much more intresting. If you liked the old chapters then too bad! New readers, forget this whole top part and read the story. I don't really know how to spell dremora though so watch out!

Disclaimer: I don't own Oblivion or the Shivering Isles. I only own Henry and my other OC's

**Shivering Isles: Throne of a Hero**

Chapter one: The Guide to Problem Solving

_I only wished for three things. That I could live a normal life, in a normal house, and with a normal family. That someday I could live up to be someone instead of being born as someone. Instead, I am someone. I am Henry, son of the Duke of Mania, Nephew to the great ruler, Lord Sheogorath. My regrets were simple, why have I been born to a life of luxury and people who don't even know me, regard me higher then them? Their answer, "Because you are born to uphold it." No person is born to uphold anything only their minds and their sanity. _

_My father is good-natured, who is quite not as similar to the last Duke–who was clumsy, arrogant, and had died by the hands of Lord Sheogorath. The last Duke didn't even have blood relation to him, for one reason. Sheogorath was not who he seemed, he is not the immortal dremora, but a simple Breton man. My Uncle, never spoke of how he came to the throne, but told me that the old Sheogorath had been thrown into Oblivion, never to be seen again. I shivered at the thought of Oblivion's dark red waters. The stories told by the Dark Seducers and the Golden Saints told me of hideous monsters, scourging towers, and of the gates. The gates, they told me, was the only way to the mortal world. I asked them of how, if they were closed, could they be here? _

"_This is Sheogorath's world, so Dremora are allowed access," a Dark Seducer told me, "We could never go into the human world of Nirn." The world of Nirn. A place I've always wished to go. I asked my Uncle one day about Nirn. He told me of green trees, that were spread all over the land. Of tall mountains, where snow covered the tops. Of castles, where counts fiddled their thumbs. He then told me of a white tower, that shined like gold. The palace of dreams and misfortunes, Cyrodiil. I was amazed at how he described it so rapidly, as if it were imprinted in his memory. I knew he had to have been there before, but he never told me._

_And he never will. _

_Good bye, Uncle John._

* * *

I placed my hand on my chin in thought. Maybe this wasn't the best speech I had written, after all. People might be offended. I started to crumple up the paper. This is useless, I thought, I will never get it right. I pounded my fist on the desk in frustration. I pulled out another sheet of paper and pointed the nib of the pen on my cheek. I should give up, I thought. I was wasting so much paper. I started writing hastily on the parchment, then crumpling it up and throwing it in the waste can. I put my hands on my head and strands of brown hair threaded from in between my fingers.

I had been through a lot, I realized. I hadn't had much sleep and I hadn't eaten much since the murder. I just couldn't believe he was gone, slipped away from existence. The funeral was coming up soon too, and I hadn't written my speech yet, but what was I suppose too say? I will miss you Uncle, I will kill your murder? Hey, that doesn't sound so bad. I pulled out another sheet, but then put it back. Who am I kidding? I got up from my chair and paced in my room, thinking of what I was to write.

At this rate, I thought, I would ruin the carpet. I looked down at the bright red rug. It already looked ruined by my trampling all over it. I went over to my bed, and laid down, looking up at the canopy roof. I almost fell asleep in that position, when someone knocked on the door. I got up from the bed, brushed my satin tunic, and hurried to the door. My father was there looking very urgent. I held the door open and gestured for him to come inside. He did so and rather instantly. I shut the door and turned around and saw him sit at one of the small tables. He stared at me constantly. I took a seat across from him and looked at him firmly.

"So what do you know? Who killed my Uncle?" I asked him searching his face for an answer. His face forever remained still, with no sign of emotion. I was worried. He was acting a bit odd.

"We don't know Henry. There were no witnesses so it's a mystery," my father said. I sighed. I got up from my chair and went for the desk again. Might as well write poems of regret on my speech. My father's eyes followed me as I went across the room. I looked back at him once, then went to the bookcase instead. Writing a speech would get me no where to help find the killer of my Uncle, so I decided that I could find a book that could teach me how to solve extremely difficult crimes. I brushed my hand on the books bindings, searching for such book.

I had no success, so I redid my search, looking from the bottom to the top. I found_ A Guide to Problem Solving _and stopped there. I pulled it from the shelf, looking through the pages, and slammed the book shut. I put it back on the shelf. It was mostly about house cleaning, cooking, and anything that can be washed. I paused at the book again. Why was that book there, I wouldn't need a book about house cleaning? I took it from the shelf again and threw it on the desk with a slam and I continued my fruitless search.

I then felt my father's gaze and quickly turned around. He was staring at me with a sad grin and his fingers rattled the desk. I walked back over to the table and slumped back down. He frowned at me with a solemn gaze, "Henry, what were you doing?" I looked up from my staring contest with the table.

"Looking for a book," I answered simply. He took his gaze off me and looked at the bookshelf then the book I had set down on the desk.

"Is that the book you were looking for?" he asked me pointing at _A Guide to Problem Solving_. I shook my head as I looked over to the useless book.

"I put it aside to get ride of it. I was looking for a book on how to find my Uncle's murder," I said holding a sad smile, "couldn't find any though." My father stared at me and slowly nodded his almost bald head shifting his weight away from the book. I gave my father a side glance. He is probably morning more then me, I thought, he _was_ his brother. I slumped my shoulders. I shouldn't be selfish, I thought looking sadly in my fathers direction. "I'm sorry father that we lost him." I paused, "you knew my Uncle more then I did." His shoulders shook a little and a single tear went down his face.

"It's noble of you to be trying to find the killer Henry, but what's done is done. People live and some are taken away, you can't help that. John had served his purpose for ruling the Shivering Isles, so the gods decided to bring him to a better place."

A single tear went down my cheek also. I wasn't ready to let him go. He was the only one who understood my need for adventure and excitement, then from this dreary life in the Palace. I wiped the tear and tried to hold back more, but it produced a sour taste in my mouth. I kept myself composed, my mouth wavering into a frown. No one deserves such a death, murder in the night, with no goodbyes. I couldn't believe I was smiling on the day of his death, not fully knowing what happened. I wanted to kill the man who did this, he deserved it–a knife in his ribs and a silent fare-well.

My father lost himself crying to his hearts content. A couple of more tears escaped my eyes and I pushed back my chair heading to the desk to cover my sobs. I didn't want to make it worse for him. My father then pushed back his chair and opened the wooden door, "See you at the dining hall, Henry." I nodded my head and he closed the door. I pound my fist on the desk again, causing _A Guide to Problem Solving _to come crashing to the floor. I picked it up and felt like ripping the pages from it. If only it could solve _my_ problem.

* * *

Part of me wanted not to go to the dining room. I still had to work on my speech and I hadn't even worked on a first paragraph. Another part of me want to go to dinner, with a constant grumbling reminding me. I dropped my quill and headed out of my chambers. The hallways continued for a few meters then it turned to the right, to the door to the gardens. I walked down the hallway, looking both hungry and depressed. Some Golden Saints past by, the golden armor blinding me as I walked. The Saint did not turn in my direction, but continued down the hall. I rested my hand on a white pillar and paused. Maybe I should head back, I had to write the speech. I pressed on, the speech can wait, I was starving.

I opened the door to the gardens. Brilliant colors entered my eyes as I strolled down the walk ways. The sun was setting and an orange color was in the sky. I hadn't noticed that much time has gone by since I started working. I faintly remember lunch. I quickened my speed, the plants always gave me reverence. The trees had odd shades of orange and red with not a single trace of dark shades of any color. I glanced at the garden once more before entering the throne room.

The Duke of Mania's throne room was, of coarse, not as big as Sheogorath's. The room was dark around the edges but lighted up in the middle. The dining table was on the floor a couple of steps down. It was already filled with food, wine, and pastries. I never enjoyed eating at the dining table, it was either what was on your plate or on the table. They always offered too much food for only three people. I usually ate in my chambers. It was different this time, however. It was in the memory of my Uncle.

I made my way down the small steps to the long table. I sat myself next to my father, who sat on the throne at the end of the table. Wide-Eye, an argonian, sat across from me her lizard like face staring at me. I looked down at my food not looking in her eyes. Wide-Eye is my father's steward. She has been here for a long time, even before I was born sixteen years ago. She has also been a helpful adviser to my father at some times and a loyal friend to him. Father had another steward a couple years back. The Nord died unexpectedly in his apartments down the hall. He had stabbed himself, sending him to the Hill of Suicides, a place of the forever misery of torture.

My father stood up and everyone at the table, which was Wide-Eye, a couple of nobles, and me, sat in silence. He cleared his throat before making his announcement.

"As you all know, my brother, John died a week ago. Murdered. This feast is in his celebration, of a life that lead him to glory. I talked with my son a couple hours ago," he gestured towards me, "he decided he would hunt down the cold-blooded killer." I slid in my chair blushing slightly. I didn't expect him to tell _everyone _about our discussion. He smiled at me and continued, "I told him that revenge on his Uncle would be in vain. It is useless to throw your life away for someone who has died." I slid further into my chair ignoring everyone's gaze. "We are to celebrate his life. A life that had once..." he paused looking at me cautiously, "saved the Isles. Forever we remember Lord John." he sat down and started eating, followed by others.

I sat back up and looked at my plate. Grapes and cauliflower sat neatly in one corner of the plate along with venison smothered in gravy, a piece of bread, and onion soup. I picked up my fork and pricked it's two points on the venison. I never knew my Uncle saved the Isles. All that my Uncle had told me about how he got the throne was that he was appointed the job. That's why he cared about my adventuring spirit, to run away from the palace and live in a cave. I'd never be able to do that, only if I somehow get stuck in a situation that I might. I am the heir to the Duke's throne. I had responsibilities to take care of.

At least I won't become Sheogorath, I thought. I wasn't even close for the line. It was either my father or Aunt that would take the throne and after that is my only cousin William. He was older then me by ten years. I didn't like William to much, on the rare occasion he comes to visit the House of Mania he comes to laugh at my face or find a way to get _me_into trouble. Luckily, it was on rare occasion. I hadn't seen him recently since the murder, probably as glum as the rest of the Palace.

I was the last heir to Sheogorath's throne. It would be a miracle if I'm to rule, though it's not much of a miracle to me. To have so much put on my shoulders, it would be more suited if someone older would be the next Lord. I don't care who it is, they would never replace my Uncle.

I finished off my venison and started picking at the grapes. Many people were already done with their meal and drunk happily at the wine. I noticed my father staring at me so I put another grape in my mouth after another, reassuring him I was all right. He didn't believe it, "Henry, you've been sitting here poking that venison for the last hour, what's on your mind?" I smiled at him, and put the stem of a grape on my plate.

"I'm fine. I'm tired, that's all," I said reassuringly. He eyed me curiously then got back to his meal. Wide-Eye had also noticed my weariness and flicked her tail.

"Are you sure Master Henry?" Wide-Eye asked me. I hated being called master by the servants all the time. I leaned closer to Wide-Eye so the other nobles couldn't hear.

"Please don't call me master," I whispered across the table. Wide-Eye came to realization and nodded her head. I sat down in my seat. I hoped my father didn't hear that, but he didn't and he continued to look about the room. I gave an inner sigh and took a sip disdainfully at the now cold onion soup.

Everyone left the room, going back to whatever they had to do to prepare for the funeral tomorrow. I and my father, however remained put on the table. I had just finished the wine before I was to head back to the thoughtless chair of my desk. Before I left my father motioned me to stay put. I waited long unrestful minutes, before he spoke up.

"Henry, are you done with your speech?" he asked. I frowned slightly. I held off writing until today, mostly with hope that this was a dream, but no. I have slept nights and awoke for the days, but I never woke up with a sense that this was a nightmare. Maybe I'll wake up now?

"No," I answered, "I hadn't finished." My father looked at me sternly then turned a sad smile.

"I understand," he said. I looked up from the floor and to my father.

"I was suppose to write one week ago, not today before the funeral. I should have done it, but now I don't have time," I said sadly. I bowed my head to not look at my possibly angry father. I awaited a scream or a shout, but instead received a kind voice.

"You don't need to write a speech Henry, only if you want to be a scholar. You say everything from here," he said pointing to his chest. I nodded my head in understanding. I didn't need a speech? This whole time I was worrying for nothing?

"Isn't everyone else going to recite a speech?" I asked. My father shook his head and smiled.

"They won't know you hadn't written a speech. They would think you memorized it. I'm not writing a speech. People with sense know that they can speak as freely as they write," my father concluded. I nodded my head again. He motioned to the door to the gardens. "You can leave now." I got up clumsily and headed toward the steps. I paused on the railing and looked back at my father who was smiling at me and waving at me to leave. I did so and I closed the door behind me.

The garden was as pretty in night time as it was in the day. The lamps on the top edge of the garden wall produced little lit as the garden produced it's own, reflecting off the white marble of the palace. Tomorrow was the day my uncle was to meet his final resting place, and I wished that day would never come.


	2. Throne of a Hero

**A/N**: I'm back and here for the second chapter. Thanks to those who read and enjoyed the first chapter. I would love to see who likes this and all that so please review. I make mistakes and if you see one let me know. Also your going to hate me after you read this chapter(smiles)

Disclaimer: Enter in here

**Shivering Isles: Throne of a Hero**

Chapter Two: Throne of a Hero

My heart beat fast. A strain in my ear. _Thump, thump, thump, thump_. I opened my eyes. The beat in my ear stopped, the sound of the room was quiet. I breathed deeply under the covers of my woolen blankets. I rested there for a moment, breathing in the morning. Today was the day, the funeral. Unless I woke up from a nightmare. I pulled up my covers from my tired body. I brung my bare feet over the side of the bed and stepped on to the red rug. A change of clothes laid on a small couch. A smaller version of my father's tunic rested there. It was white with light blue lacing on the edges with some gold in it. Under it were a pair of short light brown pants that also had some blue. It was a custom in Mania that you had to wear colorful garments to a funeral. It was different in Dementia, they wore black. I got dressed and went to the desk. I hadn't finished my speech. I sighed, then remembered what my father said the night before.

I would have to say it from my heart, something I'm not good at. I was nervous to even go up and speak in the first place. I was stuck. It was for my Uncle, however, so I didn't complain. I still had the feeling that this was a nightmare, so I reached up to my face and pinched it. I sighed. This was not a dream. This was the real thing. I looked over the only sentence I had wrote,_ I will miss you Uncle._ Probably forgot to throw it away, I thought as I crumpled the paper. The funeral was going to be held at one o clock. I looked over to the minute tracker. I had two hours to get ready. I had slept in mostly because I was up all night sorting out this mess. I opened the door to the hallway. It was quiet, only the shuffling feet of the Golden Saints in the halls. I looked around and saw that the Saints had an ominous face. That's odd, they never express emotion, they keep a straight face and patrol the Palace. They smile occasionally...if they are carrying a prisoner to the far off dungeons in the valley. Most prisoners don't make it out alive. It's a simpler way to deal with the constant criminals in the Shivering Isles. One of those criminals killed my Uncle.

Most of the servants were weary as well. They cleaned the halls with no talking between them. Just silence. All of Mania was silent. I wasn't sure about Dementia, but I would guess they would mourn too. Even if they were demented. Everyone in the hall paid no attention to my passing, only a slight shift or sniffle. It was never this cheerless in the hallways, the people of Mania are always happy.

I look up at the Minute Tracker that was above the door to Sheogorath's Throne Room. I stood there looking at the brass door knob. All I had to do was reach down, grab it, and face the fact that he's dead. He's gone. Somehow I felt responsible. If I had been there, if I had saved him. I'm not a hero though, not like him. How could he just slip away so suddenly? He had been like a second father to me, telling me about tales of glory and triumph. He told me about the things I would never see in a lifetime. He's dead, and I can't stop that. I turned the brass door knob of the throne room.

I wished I had never turned that handle, for William bumped into me carrying what seemed to be a sword. He dropped it and it clattered to the ground. His hazel eyes stared coldly at me as I went to pick it up.

"Sorry," I said reaching for the sword on the ground. He grabbed the sword from my grasp and ran past, bumping me along the way. William closed the door shut leaving me motionless beside it. I had no clue why William hated me so much. I didn't do anything to him. I guessed it was the way cousins were. I headed down the steps. A long carpet laid on the cold stone that went on for at least twenty meters. On the half blue and red rug was my Uncle's coffin, closed and erected on a table. I hesitated at the sight of it and at the people who surrounded it. Many wore black tunics and dresses others wore colorful clothing from reds to blues. I could easily make out who was a resident of Mania and Dementia.

I made my way to the coffin. The dark color of the casket matched the tapestries, and the smooth surface seemed to reflect my sorrow. I felt as if it was just me and the coffin in the throne room. I touched the surface of it and I was lost in sadness. People surrounding me kept to a low whisper and everyone seemed to shudder in the casket's wake. All it took was a single coffin to change that.

I looked up from the coffin after a long period of staring at it. I saw my father in the corner of the lowered throne room, talking to my Aunt Alexandra, ruler of Dementia. They both had a somber face and continued to look into each other, talking quietly. I made my way into the crowd. I didn't know most of the people in the room, only a handful. Most of them were nobles, a couple I could recognize, but some of them I had never seen before. One person had a full set of armor and a sword on his side. He held himself confidently and looked to have been a warrior. I looked back to my father and then to the man. The warrior looked as sad as my father and his shoulders slumped.

I made my way over to the knight. He looked up from the ground with my approach. He looked to have been about my father's age but a bit younger. He was tall and gallant. His sword was not placed there for decoration, I thought. He was a true warrior, a person I could dream of becoming. He smiled slightly at me as I stood next to him. I was short in comparison. He stared at me for a few moments and I broke the pause. "Did you know him?" I asked. His eyes narrowed at me, then looked back at the coffin.

"Indeed I did," he replied solemnly. I looked at the coffin along with him and looked back at the grim face. They must have been friends, I concluded. He continued talking, but his face never left the direction of the casket. "Did you?" he asked. I looked at him strangely. He either came from very far away or doesn't know my Uncle at all.

"I'm his nephew, Henry," I said. He nodded once and looked back at my Uncle's coffin. He seemed to be in a trance. His behavior was very similar to my father's. "Who are you?" I asked him. He smiled sadly.

"Trevor," he said. I was still curious to who he was and why he was at the funeral. He noticed my confused face and continued, "I knew your Uncle a long time ago."

"Why come to his funeral then, if you hadn't seen him in a long time?" I asked. He frowned deeply and looked away from me. He took a couple of steps ahead of me.

"I would not like to discuss it," Trevor said coldly. He stepped into the crowd without hearing my reply. I stared in his direction for a few more seconds. My thoughts raced with confusion and worry. The whole day was in confusion and worry. I wasn't sure about anything that was happening. I looked back at the smooth coffin. People were removing it from the table and heading out the door. People followed them in haste. It was just a matter of time.

The grave and the coffin. A simple two words that tell you that it's the end. I thought that this day couldn't get any worse. What _could_ be worse I hadn't thought of. Hundreds of people surrounded the grave, more then there was at the service. I stood next to my father, staring blankly at the hole in the ground. A huge statue marked his grave, it was of a throne and him in the chair. A throne of a hero, I thought, it suited him well. Before the coffin was lowered in the ground my father stepped forward, along with my aunt. I considered stepping forward too, after my cousin did so. I came close to the edge of the pit. My family and I stared at the coffin, the grave, and the statue in silence. It was finally when my father spoke up.

"John was a great brother, uncle, and..." he paused suspiciously, "...ruler to our people." He looked at me and then to the rest of the family. "I will miss him dearly." My Aunt nodded sadly.

"So will I," she said. William remained quiet, staring to the ground instead of the grave. I nodded my head in agreement, not saying a word. They then exchanged fond memories, my father telling of his happy childhood and how they grew up in a settlement in the woods. My Aunt told us about his sense of humor and cried in remembrance. I noticed neither of them remarked on how he got into the Shivering Isles. My cousin only exchanged a few words, only saying that he was fond to have him alive, but didn't explain much after. It then was my turn. I shuffled my boots before a began.

"Uh..." I looked around, reddening slightly, "I...well...I remember that...he." I paused and looked around once again and looked to the ground. "My uncle...told me about Cyrodiil," I started. Blank gazes followed. I continued, "He told me about deer, towers, and adventurers in the wild." I wasn't making any sense but I wasn't suppose to make sense...I think. "All that I know of him was that he saved the Isles and he some how became the ruler. That's why," I looked up from the ground, "he's a hero." Everyone stared at me. I took a step back from the grave. My father nodded his head in agreement.

"We all think he was a hero," he said with a sad grin. I glanced at him and nodded in agreement. Then the coffin was lowered into the ground. Many flowers were thrown in afterwards, along with the one I was holding. As I did though, the petals fell apart and they all drifted to the casket. The stem remained in my hand and I didn't let go of it. I could never let go.

Only my family remained at the grave. Everyone had left after it was lowered into the hard soil. Then slowly they dispersed, first William and my Aunt. So my father and I were left alone, facing the statue. I felt as if I wanted to say something to my father, but I couldn't bring myself to speak. Only a sad gaze at the grave. I felt as if I had missed something bigger and that my Uncle didn't have a chance to say it yet. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words formed. My father saw this and sighed.

"I know it's difficult," he said. I turned to face him. His face had no emotion in it and his eyes were half closed as if in thought. I stared at him then shrugged.

"I've understood that for the past week," I said even though I was lying. I hadn't understood any of this at all. My father shook his head silently.

"If only you could." I sensed that he was some how troubled. I knew he was uneasy about the murder, but I felt he had more to say, something he wasn't telling me. I knew my family has been holding a secret from me, but I didn't know what.

"Could...what?" I asked. My father held a steady glance at the dirt not looking up from my confused face. His forehead creased in concentration and his frown grew more tense. My eyes wavered to his position for a second then stared ahead of me, looking at the other graves around us. We were at the edge of New Sheoth on the Dementia side. The fence around the grave yard was crooked and the yard inside it was barren. I had just noticed this, I was to into the grave that in front of me. My father then shifted slightly.

"You need to understand," he said cutting himself off again. I frowned at him.

"Understand? Understand what? That my Uncle is dead and no one can be held responsible?" My voice grew higher as I spoke. My father then stared sadly at me, and then grinned, a sadness still in his eyes.

"Yes," was all he said. I hesitated. I wasn't expecting that type of answer. He then turned around and took a step away from the grave. "You have to understand that no matter what you do you can't bring him back. If you kill the murder, as an example, it wouldn't bring him back." He then made his way to the gate of the graveyard. "Remember that." He opened the gate and closed it shut behind him leaving me alone. And at that moment, I was alone.

* * *

I paced in my room in deep thought. It was a week after the funeral and both of the houses were in discussion on who would become the new ruler of the Isles. It was either my father or Aunt, I knew. My father was older, but Dementia would want to have a say in it. The two houses were at each others necks, saying that their Duke or Duchess should rule. I was in my room thinking about the problem. If my father was to take the throne, then I would become Duke of Mania, a job I wasn't expecting for another decade or so. If my aunt took the throne then my cousin would lead Dementia and I had a feeling that he wasn't a good leader. I had opinions on him. Also the killers were still out there, planning there next move on my family. If they expected to kill the whole family, including me, then we were in big trouble. I also had a weird feeling, as if these discussions were taking forever. The only thing my father told me about them was that they were almost done, but everyday he said that. And everyday he eyed me suspiciously, holding a grim face and nodding to whatever I was telling him. He was hiding something from me, and from the rest of us.

I sat on the bed. I had been in my room for hours, waiting for my father to return from the council and say that they _finally_ reached a decision. I already expect the normal answer of misguidance. The door then swung open fiercely, and my father came in along with two Golden Saints. They looked as confused as I was. I looked up at him, shocked from the sudden intrusion.

"What is it?" I blurted out in surprise. He shook his head violently.

"No! This can't be possible," He screamed. He rushed over beside me and sat down, his face grieved.

I stood and looked down at him as he sat on my bed. "What? Is something wrong?" I asked again.

"Something is wrong. A warrior, Trevor, came into the council today," my father explained.

"The warrior at the funeral? That Trevor?" I asked. He shook his head once more. "What does he want?" I asked, my eyes widening. He look at my face again, his face in peril.

"Trevor, saw you at the funeral and..." he broke his gaze from me instantly, "He told us you... I'm sorry I couldn't hide it forever," He said.

I looked at him in confusion. "Hide what?" I managed to say. He looked up at me, finally calming down.

"That you are the Heir to the throne."


	3. Escape From New Sheoth

**A/N:**Sorry for the long wait for those who are reading. I'll try and get these up as fast as possible. I'm enjoying myself with this story and I hope you are too. I'm getting kinda nervous though no one has caught a flaw yet! It's amazing! I have a flaw though so please review! I'm not forcing you to do anything though. On to the thrid chapter!( P.s incase you don't know what a minute traker is I made it up it's suppose to be a clock. I had no idea what they call a clock in the Shivering Isles so I used my imagination!)

Disclaimer: Ask my OC.

**Shivering Isles: Throne of a Hero**

Chapter Three: Escape from New Sheoth

I took a step back from my father in disbelief. His face was grim and there was hardly any light left in his eyes. I looked back at him from my recoiling state. We didn't speak. I felt as if the air in my lungs had been taken away from me.

"You must be joking," I started. He didn't reply, only looking up at me with his somber eyes. My eyes were wide with confusion and fear. "How can I be..." I trailed off looking away from my father. He sighed and folded his arms.

"It was the only way to keep you safe," he said. I looked at him half angry half confused. How would this keep me safe? And why was he keeping me safe anyway?

"What do you mean?" I asked him. His gaze went to the two Golden Saints that were stationed before the door. He gestured them forward and they did so, the golden armor clanking against their golden skin.

"Guard him with your lives," he told them somberly pointing in my direction. They smiled at him and spoke in their arcane tone.

"_We are suppose to protect our new lord," _They said eagerness in their eyes. I brought up my hands and gestured defeat.

"Whoa, wait a minute. What is going on here?" I asked looking at the Saints then my father. He regarded me for a moment, then turned to the Saints again.

"Station yourself outside the door while me and my nephewhave a chat," he gestured to the door. They exited eagerly. Nephew? I thought I was his son? My head was busy sorting all of these new facts. Did that mean that my mother was Aunt Alexandra, but that didn't make any sense. My father just said I was the heir to the throne. Which meant...

"You mean I'm..." I said continuing the discussion after the Saints left. My father nodded sternly.

"Yes, Henry. We buried your father one week ago."

Which is why I felt a sudden emptiness from my heart on the day of the funeral. Which is why I felt that someone was hiding something from me. And my uncle, Lord Sheogorath of the Shivering Isles, is my father. Which meant I was the heir to a throne. I _was_ the last in line and now, all of a sudden, I become the first.

"Why?" I said looking into my former father's eyes. "Why hide me? Why go to all that trouble?" He nodded at the question.

"Twenty years ago, as you knew, your father saved the Isles. It all started in Cyrodiil. Your father, aunt, and I were very adventurous in our early years, going into the wild and away from the settlement in the forest. That was when your father was suddenly captured by Imperial Guards. We had no clue on why he was arrested. They took him to the Imperial Dungeons. We sought him out but realized he hade somehow escaped the dungeons, the first to do so in eighty years. We had no idea were he had gone so I went back to exploring.

"A year later he came back, and as the Hero of Cyrodiil as well. We were both over joyed with his return, telling us his adventures into the gates of Oblivion. That's when the portal opened. Your Aunt had been living in Bravil at the time, caring for William, who was six at the time. Your father had no clue what he was going against as he went through it. I was too far up north dealing with some business up there to have come with him. He returned a hero from there as well. Sheogorath a Dedric Prince had stumbled into the waters of Oblivion. Jyggalag, his other personality, was ready to bring order to the Shivering Isles, killing every person inside it. Your father, with the power of a god, killed Jyggalag, and with Sheogorath's and Jyggalag's last breath, he became Lord of the Isles.

"John couldn't leave the Isles, if he did then his enemies could steal the throne and only he could control the Saints and Seducers. So we came here. I a Duke and your Aunt a Duchess, the old rulers, as I have told you before, were killed on the onslaught. John then got married, to a beautiful woman too. She then had you, and he was so happy, until the assassinations started. They killed your mother in the night in cold blood. He then decided it was best if the assassins didn't go after you, after the incident with his wife, so he turned custody over to me." He looked over to my face. "And now your father has fallen and you are the next heir to the throne." I bowed my head. I wasn't ready. I hadn't expected any of this. My father, who I thought was my father, turns out to have been my uncle, and my uncle, who was lowered into the ground a week ago, is my father. This wasn't making any sense.

I then realized another confused thing about the problem. Who was Trevor and how did he know who I was? I had only meet him a week ago and how could he tell I was Sheogorath's son? I looked toward my newly instated uncle my eyes staring seriously at him.

"How did Trevor know then? He couldn't have known, unless you or my...father told him, right?" I had hesitated on the word father, not entirely sure if I was to use it. Understanding dawned on my once father and he placed his hand on his chin.

"Now that you say that, I wasn't totally sure myself. There was something odd about him. He entered the council hall this morning and demanded a private meeting with your Aunt and I. It was suspicious that he knew of your lineage. He insisted that you should take the throne. When I asked him how he came to this knowledge he walked out and headed for the gates." I glared at him. I wasn't so sure about this. I was way too young to even know about ruling the Isles. I thought carefully. If I was to take the throne that would put me in immediate danger from the assassins. I shook my head.

"Aren't the assassins still out there? Couldn't they come and kill _me_?" I asked my voice in alarm. My uncle nodded his head and understood my problem.

"That's why I have Golden Saints posted at your door, they could come at any moment," he said calmly.

"What?" I said in surprise, "They could come right now? Do they know I'm the next in line or something?" He bit his bottom lip and got up from the bed and strolled around a bit.

"I don't know, but it's possible. We have to watch our backs, after all. We didn't when your father was killed," he said looking at me in the eyes.

My shoulders slumped."You mean you let your guard down?"

My uncle nodded his head sadly,"There had been no assassination attempt for the past five years so we thought they had given up, but no. They were waiting for the moment to strike." Which lead to my real father's down fall. I shook my head in annoyance.

"You can't expect me to rise to the throne and begin commanding the Isles. I'm not prepared for this!" I said raising my voice. He bit his lip thoughtfully and placed his arm on my shoulder.

"You have to believe Henry. I understand you were not prepared for this, nether was I. But the time of doubt has ended. You are the son and Heir to Lord Sheogorath. None of that can be helped." I looked up at him for a second then nodded my head. I didn't want to take responsibility for many lives. I didn't want to be in control. But I had too. It was the only way.

Suddenly the door was flung open and, one of the Golden Saints that my true Uncle had posted outside, popped her head into the door. She had a slight grimace, from adrenaline. Her golden long bow was out and an arrow was already on the string. She turned and frowned at my Uncle.

"_The assassins are here, my lord. Many of them,"_ the Golden Saint said drawing the bow string and sending the arrow down the hall. I looked at my Uncle in worry. He drew a steel short sword he kept at his side and moved to the door.

"Do you have a weapon Henry?" He asked me putting his back on the marble of the wall. As I headed toward him the Saint pulled another arrow from her quiver and held off the unknown enemy.

"No, I only have a knife, but it's out in the courtyard." I said my voice wavering. Who ever was attacking the palace seemed to have a pretty good reason to do so. My uncle cursed under his breath. I sighed. I knew how to handle a sword, mentors had taught me when I was younger. They even taught me how to harness some magica, but very little. They never thought that an heir to the Duke of Mania would need to learn the art of mortal combat, after all. Mania is a peace country.

My uncle leaned closer to the Golden saint speaking lowly, "Are they close?" The Saint grimaced farther as she pulled a third arrow from the quiver.

"_Unfortunately, yes, my Lord,"_ the Golden Saint said drawing and aiming at the threat. My Uncle grunted. He looked my way and tried to smile but failed at the attempt. We were doomed. Trapped my room with no were else to go...except for the window. My uncle made his way there pulling the shutters open. I looked out the window. We were only two stories up so it wouldn't be a problem to jump down. But our pursers wouldn't have a problem doing so either. My Uncle motioned out the window.

"You'll have to go alone, Henry. I'll stay here to fend them off. Run far from here. If I survive I will tell them you died in the attempt to escape so you can be safe. Go to the Fringe. Stay there until I send a Golden Saint after you. I tried to help you Henry, but there isn't much I can do." He then shoved a small pack into my hands, "Get as quickly as you can away from here. I only hope that the assassins don't come after you." I looked doubtfully at the pack and then to my Uncle. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out.

He shoved me to the window. "Don't worry about me! Now go!" Just as he said it the Golden Saint fell, her throat slit from the oncoming assassins. I climbed out the window hurriedly and looked up. I saw my once thought father staring back at me smiling sadly. "Believe Henry," was all he said. I was staring at my uncle one last time and replied.

"I'll be...fine," I said looking for the word. He smiled and turned away facing the coming onslaught. My feet reached the ground outside the Palace. I turned and ran. Running was all I could do. I was worthless. I continued running through the colorful trees and ponds, not once looking at them. Running was all I could do.

* * *

The assassin picked up the ruler of Mania by the collar. His once rich clothes filled with life were stained with blood and grim. The assassin's cold eyes looked at him sternly as he brought his knife to his throat. It sparked with magica and it stung the Duke slightly on the neck.

"Where is he?" the assassin said in a murderous voice. The Duke looked into the killers eyes unflinching. He managed a small smile at the question.

"I would never tell a cur like you," he managed to say spitting at the assassin. The murder wiped his concealed face, covered by the shadow of his dark hood. He looked at his followers then back to the Duke and smiled. He pricked his arcane knife closer to the Duke's pale skin.

"I said," his tone booming in anger, "Where is he?!"

The Duke smiled, "Kill me. I will never tell you. Not even if it brings me to the waters of Oblivion." The assassin hesitated before killing the Mania ruler. He was wasting time on him. The useless runt could be far away by now heading to wherever he was heading. He dropped the Duke forcefully. He looked down at him in delight. He was still and unmoving his eyes glazed in repulsion. He looked out the window. The sun was fading and the pink stars and galaxies started to make their way across the sky. Good, he thought. Night was his favorite time to hunt.

* * *

My legs grew tired and I breathed deeply. The many stars of the Isles glistened in the night. I had been running for what seemed hours away from the terror. I looked around for a place to rest. I could have slept right where I was, but I was no fool. Even if my Uncle had stayed behind to slow down the assassins didn't mean he was successful. I was near a small stream. The water licked on the shore in small motions. I made my way to it joyfully. My tongue was parched from running drastically away from New Sheoth. Now that I thought of it, I never had been outside it's border's. I was in the wild where Hungers, Grommets, and Bandits roamed free. I was in extreme caution. If I was caught by any of those then it would spell trouble. I was unarmed. As I thought of it I turned my attention to the sack I was carrying. My Uncle had given it to me at the last moment of escape. I opened it and found a water skin, dried meat and bread, and a small dagger. At least, I thought, I wouldn't go hungry.

I moved to a log that had fallen next to the stream. I thought about a fire, but discarded the idea entirely. Who knows how well the assassin's could track. I eased myself down next to the log. My Uncle had said I was to make my way carefully to the Fringe, the border to the Shivering Isles and Nirn. I hardly knew how to get there. I only knew the surrounding areas of New Sheoth. I thought for a moment that I was heading close to The Hill of Suicides. I swallowed nervously. The land near there is barren and desolated. It was also located in Dementia. I never had been on the Demented side, but I had heard it was not so welcoming to Mania dwellers. Well I wasn't a Mania dweller or a Dementia dweller. I was both.

I took a small amount of the dry meat my Uncle had packed and fingered it. It wasn't much but it was food. I popped it into my mouth. I looked into the pack again. I had food for three days if I ate some of the stale bread and meat twice a day. I then noticed for the first time twenty gold pieces. If I found a town along the way I could buy some more food. I then looked up to the stars and rested my head on the log. I hoped my Uncle was alright. I felt that it was my fault for endangering him. I sighed silently. I tried many times to fall asleep but my conscious told me that someone was after me so I opened my eyes again. Nothing had changed, the consent rippling of the pond created a soothing tune. I slowly drifted to sleep...

Only to be awakened by a sudden movement in the trees. I sat still wishing myself to disappear into the bark of the fallen tree. I heard footsteps only a few meters behind me. My breathing seemed to stop entirely. I wanted to see who was the pursuer but ignored the temptation. The footsteps stopped and soft splashing in the pond followed. I heard a small clank on the stones. Whoever it was, they were armored. I breathed softly after holding it in. I wanted to run. As fast as could away from the possible threat. The sound got farther and farther away and sodden feet lifted out of the pool. At first I thought I was safe.

But how I was mistaken. I stirred slightly and in a flash a sword was produced and aimed at my throat. I could not see the warrior's face, only a shadow in the darkness. He didn't seem to see me either as he seemed to struggle to look at me. The only thing I saw of him was the sword pointed to my neck.

"Who are you?" He demanded. His voice sounded Imperial. He came closer to me. I now saw his face slightly. My eyes widened. The figure was much taller then me. His gauntlet held his sword firmly. He pressed it a little harder against my throat, "Well?" He said impatiently. I decided that giving him my name meant no harm. I was caught already.

"Henry," I said, "My name is Henry" I said a little firmer. The warrior paused. His grip on the sword was lightened.

"Henry?" The knight repeated. I would have nodded my head if the sword wasn't in my way, so I answered.

"Yes," was all I said. He released his grip on me. He sheathed his sword and picked up a branch. He lighted it with a touch, amazingly, without any struggle. A small light was produced and I finally recognized who the warrior was. It was Trevor.


	4. It Only Takes Half

Disclaimer:...

**Shivering Isles: Throne of a Hero**

Chapter Four: It Only Takes Half

The tall figure lowered his sword to the ground almost instantly. His face was grieved as he looked at me. I stood still, my mouth opening slightly. Neither of us talked for a while, only the soft flickering of the torch...the torch!

"Put that out now," I whispered hoarsely. He looked at me for a couple more seconds in thought, then extinguished the flames in the water. We were engulfed in darkness once more. Trevor was once again the looming figure standing over me. His face moved slightly as he made to speak.

"What are you doing here? Your supposed to be at the Palace enjoying your crown," he whispered. I looked at his shadowed figure in confusion.

"What am I doing here? You're the one who brought me into this mess!" I barley whispered. He shook his head. I laid against the fallen tree ready for his testament.

"What are you talking about? What 'mess'?" he said, his shadow moving slightly. I sighed in annoyance. I wasn't sure if he was playing dumb with me or if he truly did not know. He noticed my irritation and kept quiet.

"Oh, okay. How about that assassins are after me. That definitely isn't a mess," I said with sarcasm in my voice. His form relaxed and his face remained unseen. I thought I had saw a slight movement of his eyes going in a tiny circle. Sometimes I can't help being sarcastic. I think I got it from my...father. My real father. Trevor shook his head. I think he realized that too.

"Very much like your father. I hated when he did that," he replied laughing softly. I tensed up. So he did know my father, but how did he know I was his son. Or more importantly why did he tell my uncle? I made to speak but I was interrupted by stirring in the distance. I felt as if someone was watching me and pointed slowly to the direction of the movement.

"They're back," I said as softly as I could, "They won't stop until I'm dead." Trevor loosened his sword from his scabbard. He looked to me then to the direction I was pointing. He then took a second device from his hip and handed it to me.

"If your half as good as your father it would be useful," Trevor whispered handing me a short blade.

"If half is all it takes," I replied. I saw another movement near the edge of the pond. All I saw was shadow, I saw no figure of a man standing there, only darkness. It drew closer to us along with two others, their foot steps hardly making a sound in the water. I prepared my short sword and looked to Trevor. In the stars reflection I saw a reassuring smile.

"Believe me," he said, "It only takes half." The first assassin then attacked aiming at me. I dodged it quickly but another came from the side. I brought up my short sword to block the knife stroke. The knife hit my sword and I was fighting a battle of strength. The knife, I noticed, was enchanted, the blade sting my fingers as the electricity ran down my short sword. Trevor had taken position behind me deflecting any assassin that attacked me. The assassin brought his knife down harder against the short sword and it stung my fingers some further. I noticed that Trevor had taken down one of the assassins, pulling his blade from the assassin's body. The assassin attacking me was distracted for a second so I brought my blade away from the enchanted knife using all my force to drive the small sword into the assassin. I had no clue where I was aiming so I aimed for the hand holding the glittering knife. He fell holding it's arm in the process.

Trevor had just finished the third one until he turned to me. He held my shoulder before killing the assassin and went over to the killer holding his sword out. "Who do you work for?" Trevor said in a cold tone. The assassin laughed slightly and Trevor brought the sword closer to the assassin's throat. "I said," he started, "Who do you work for!?" The laughing stopped and a silence claimed the pond. I looked to Trevor. His face was still obscured in the darkened night.

"Very... persistent..." the assassin said in a murderous voice. Trevor stepped on the injured arm and the killer hissed at him. "Your going to kill me anyway..." the assassin said. Trevor bent lower his face only a couple of inches from the cowled face of the assassin.

"I can make your death so painful you would beg for me to kill you," Trevor said in a cold tone. I myself shivered at the thought. The assassin's gaze went to me and laughed slightly.

"I feel no pain," was all the assassin said. Trevor stared at him impatiently. "Your all going to die. The throne will never be held by a mortal again. It shows how weak you all are. The fake Sheogorath fell to easily to my knife." I looked at the shadow form pained. The assassin I had just stabbed killed my father. I remembered my promise. I went to my knees and picked up the enchanted knife on the ground. The same knife that had killed my father and now it will kill the killer. With a silent farewell.

Before Trevor could stop me, I plunged the knife into the assassin. he did not cry only laugh. A cold shrilling laugh.

"You will all die," he shrieked. All I wanted was to kill the murderer. A knife in the dark and a silent farewell. The assassin died and I had fulfilled my promise, but I felt no respite from it.

* * *

Trevor's came up behind me as the assassin breathed it's last breath. He was mad at me. He pulled me away from the body of the assassin and looked at me sharply.

"What in the name Akatosh did you do?!" I had no idea who this Akatosh was but I guessed he or she was bad. I stared calmly into Trevor's eyes.

"I killed my father's murderer is what I did. He deserved to die," I said. Trevor shook his head frantically.

"Don't you see Henry? He wanted you to kill him!" He screamed shaking me. My eyes widened. I had no idea what I had just done. I had given what the assassin wanted. He wanted to die a fast death. He wanted to not share information. He wanted me to kill him. I had acted on impulse, on anger to my deceased father. I had murdered in cold blood, just like the assassin. I swallowed nervously as I realized what I had done. We had a ticket to finding out the person who sent out all these assassins. And I had ruined it.

Trevor threw me to the ground. He went to the assassin and undid it's cowl. A monster like thing laid there a crooked smile on it's face and it's eyes stared into the midnight. Trevor kicked the corpse and went over to me. I stood up and faced the tall figure standing above me. "It's a Dremora of the Oblivion world," he said. I looked at the still figure below us. It looked as if it had horns and the red skin of it glowed slightly.

I looked up to him and frowned,"I'm sorry Trevor. I–"

"Acted without reason. Acted without thought. Acted without sense," he interrupted. I hesitated and bowed my head. The knife I had imbedded in the assassin's chest wasn't glowing anymore and it turned into a normal knife. I hated that knife. I realized I should have taken revenge on the knife instead. It killed my father.

Trevor sighed deeply and went over to the fallen trunk and picked up the sack my Uncle gave to me. He picked it up and went through it. "Were did you get this?" he said. I looked at him suspiciously.

"When I was escaping, my Uncle gave it to me. Why?" I asked. He put the sack down and looked to the south.

"You would never survive on only this if your going to the Fringe," he said looking back to me. I opened my mouth to speak but he continued. "I know your going to the Fringe because it's the only safe way out of this. In Cyrodiil the Dremora can't come threw. All of the Oblivion gates were closed around twenty years ago," he said.

"I don't want to run away," I said, "dremora are taking over the Isles. I can't just leave everyone here leaderless." Trevor looked at me curiously and nodded his head.

"As is expected from John's son," he said to himself.

"Who are you anyway?" I asked. "You knew that I was the next heir and everything." Trevor nodded to me.

"I knew your father because I'm a Blade," he said. A Blade? What the heck is that? He sighed as I stayed quiet thinking of what a Blade was. It was a sword right? But Trevor said he was one. He shook his head in my ignorance, "Didn't your father tell you anything? The Blades are a secret organization and are the Emperor's eyes and ears... or when we had an Emperor..." he trailed off looking above my head. "Anyway...I knew your father. He always used a sarcastic tone on me like what you just did." I nodded my head in understanding. He always did that with messengers that came into the court. It was pretty funny at sometimes.

"I still want to know what's going on," I said impatiently, "What did my father have to do with the 'Blades'?" Trevor looked at me then at the surrounding forest.

"We don't have time for questions. More assassins could be coming at this moment and I swore to your father I would protect you," he said heading across the stream.

"Who said I needed to be protected? I can do fine on my own!" I called back to him. He stopped in the middle of the pond when I called to him.

"Then where is the Fringe?" he asked. I let out a puff of breath. He was right. I could never survive on my own with assassins after me. If Trevor wasn't here when the three assassins attacked, then I would have been dead. I mean, I only had a small knife.

Trevor glanced at me once then continued going across the pond. "See," he said.

I grunted and went after him. "I'm only doing this because I have to," I called after him putting my feet in the water.

"All right your majesty," he called over his shoulder. I hate being called your majesty.

* * *

We walked through the forest in silence. No one but Trevor and I was there. I was glad about that. But a silence still surrounded Trevor and me. I thought I should raise a conversation or a comment about something, but I never had a chance to. Slowly the sun started to rise and the pink stars almost seemed to melt away in the sky. I looked up steadily. I was exhausted. I was awake for most of the night fighting off assassins and walking through the tangle of trees.

"I think we should stop here," I said. Trevor stopped walking and turned around. He walked a couple of steps towards me and paused.

"I agree," he said. We walked to a clearing that was only a couple of meters from where we were. I sat against a huge mushroom that stood in the clearing and Trevor sat across from me. We sat there for a long time. I was looking at the few bugs that had gathered there not looking up to meet Trevor's gaze who was looking straight at me.

"So..." I started looking up from the small bugs. He continued to stare at me. I sat my elbow against my knee and looked at him. "Um...I was wondering..." I continued, "What were you doing in the forest?" He finally looked away from me and looked up into the cloudless sky.

"I was making my way back to Cyrodiil, to report to the Blades," Trevor said, his eyes never leaving the sky. I nodded my head in understanding then stopped.

"Reporting...what?" I asked. He took his gaze away from what ever he thought was interesting in the sky and looked back at me.

"I was going to report I had told the Isles of the true heir," he said. I thought for a moment. I was the true heir but why was Trevor going to tell everyone then bring me into danger.

"I don't understand," I said, "How does your Blades know I'm the next heir if my father hid me? My uncle told me that only he and my father knew." We sat there in silence. Trevor sat in thought while I was confused. The air seemed to freeze around us.

"Other people do know of you. The Blades knew you were his son because you were born in Cyrodiil. You were born inside the walls of Cloud Ruler Temple, the base of the Blades. Your father told us he wanted you to be born on Cyrodiil soil. He picked Cloud Ruler Temple because of it's importance to him. You are a Cyrodiil citizen."

For my whole life I had thought I was born in the Palace and that I would rule Mania someday. The Shivering Isles were coming to ruins once more. I looked up to Trevor.

"Who else knows? Besides the Blades and my uncle and aunt?" I asked. Trevor frowned and sighed.

"William."

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry about the shortness of the chapter but I thought this was a good place to stop. Also sorry for the long wait. A good thing though is that I am already onto the next chapter ; ). No more long waits! Well see yah!


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